AARADHYA'S POV

The entire house felt upside down today. Suitcases open, clothes everywhere, Maa shouting instructions from one room to another, Kavya running around with random things in her hands like she had no idea what she was actually packing. And me…

I stood in the middle of my room holding a folded kurta, staring at my suitcase like it had personally offended me.

“Ek hafte ke liye hi to jaana hai,” I muttered. Still… packing always feels like preparing for something bigger than just travel.

I folded the kurta and placed it neatly inside the suitcase. First went the normal clothes cotton suits, two casual kurtas for daytime, one slightly heavier one for functions.

Then my night suits one pink, one blue, one loose oversized T-shirt that Kavya kept trying to steal.

After that I opened my small jewellery pouch. Nothing too fancy, just basic things bangles, small earrings, one delicate chain Maa had gifted me last year.

Makeup came next compact, kajal, lipstick, small perfume bottle, hair clips, rubber bands. Everything went into a smaller pouch that I pushed to the corner of the suitcase.

Behind me Kavya suddenly dropped something loudly. “Arre!”

“What happened?” I turned.

“My charger gir gaya,” she said dramatically like the world had ended. I rolled my eyes. “You’re packing charger like you’re going to war.”

“Phone mar gaya to tumhe pata chalega,” she shot back.

I laughed softly. Our room was filled with the rustling sound of clothes and occasional arguments about who packed whose things.

After another twenty minutes, my suitcase was finally closed. I sat on the bed for a moment, exhaling slowly. One week away from home.

It should feel exciting a break from routine, a break from college, a break from everything. And part of me did feel that. But another part… felt strange.

Like the air before a storm. You don’t see the clouds yet, but something in the atmosphere shifts.

I shook the thought away. “Drama mat kar, Aaradhya,” I murmured.

Maa called from outside, “Gaadi aa gai!” We carried our bags outside. The car we had booked waited near the gate. The driver stepped out and helped Papa load the luggage.

I looked back at our house for a moment the neem tree, the small balcony, the gate I had locked hundreds of times before.

Strange how leaving for a week suddenly made everything feel more important. I locked the gate, checked it twice, then walked to the car.

Kavya had already claimed the window seat. Of course. “Mujhe bhi kabhi window de diya karo,” I complained.

“Next life,” she replied.

I sighed and sat beside her. The car started, and slowly… our street disappeared behind us.

The journey felt long seven hours. Dusty roads, small towns passing by, occasional tea stops, Maa dozing off, Papa talking to the driver about directions, Kavya listening to music with one earphone in my ear and the other in hers.

The sky slowly shifted from afternoon blue to evening orange, then night.

By the time we reached our destination, my body felt tired. But the moment I saw the house… I sat up straight. “Wow…”

It was huge. Not exactly like an old haveli, but definitely inspired by one large entrance gate, tall pillars, wide balconies, carved wooden doors. But the lighting, the glass windows, the design… all felt modern too. Like someone took an old haveli and gave it a modern soul.

Relatives stood near the entrance waiting. Maa got down first. “Maasi!” Immediately there were hugs, greetings, voices overlapping “Khamma gani!” “Arre aa gaye tum log!” “Kitne din baad!”

Maa pulled me forward. “Ye meri badi beti hai… Aaradhya.” Everyone looked at me at once.

I smiled politely, touched a few elders’ feet, answered the same questions repeatedly “Kitni badi ho gai!” “Kya padh rahi ho?” “Kahan rehte ho?”

After some time I felt my social energy draining completely. Thankfully rooms were already assigned. We carried our luggage upstairs. The room given to me and Kavya was large two beds, a dressing table, and a small balcony.

I dropped my bag near the bed. Finally. Peace.

Just then another woman entered the room Maa’s cousin. She looked at me carefully and smiled. “Aaradhya to badi ho gai hai.” I smiled politely. Then she laughed and said, “Lage haath iski bhi shaadi karva do.”

I groaned immediately. “Maasi aap bhi na.” Everyone laughed. I escaped before they could start more teasing. “Main thoda fresh hoke aati hu.”

Inside the room I washed my face and stepped toward the balcony. The night air felt cool. Quiet. The street outside was almost empty. Most houses had their lights off. Only a few windows glowed faintly.

Then I noticed something. A car. Parked a little distance away. Its headlights were off. But the engine… was still running. A faint vibration echoed in the silent street.

I frowned slightly. Then I switched on the balcony light. The yellow light spilled outside. And in that moment… I saw the car properly.

My breath stopped.

The same model. The same color. The same number pattern. The same car I had noticed in my street weeks ago. The same one near the temple. And the same one during Navratri.

My heartbeat suddenly became loud in my ears. “No…”

It must be coincidence. There must be hundreds of similar cars. Still… something about it felt wrong.

I stepped back slowly. Closed the balcony door. But even then… I couldn’t stop glancing at it through the window. The engine kept running. For a long time.

Morning arrived too quickly. I woke up to the sound of people talking downstairs. More guests had arrived. Laughter echoed through the hallway.

Someone knocked on our door. Breakfast. Relatives. Conversations. My social battery dropped to zero immediately.

Maa and Kavya left after breakfast for wedding shopping with other relatives. “Tum nahi aaogi?” Maa asked. I shook my head. “Thoda rest karungi.” She nodded and left.

Finally the room became quiet again. I lay on the bed scrolling through my phone lazily. I hated big family gatherings too many people, too many questions, too many forced smiles.

Just as I was about to close Instagram, a notification popped up. From the company. My internship company. My heart skipped. I opened the email quickly.

The message read: Documents submitted successfully within the deadline. You are confirmed to begin your internship role next month.

I stared at the screen for a moment. Then exhaled slowly. “Thank God…” One tension gone. At least that part of my life was moving forward smoothly.

I locked my phone and leaned back against the pillow. Outside the window the morning sun spread across the quiet street. For a moment everything felt peaceful. Calm.

But somewhere in the back of my mind… the memory of that car remained. Parked. Waiting. Like it had followed me here.

ABHIMANYU'S POV

The road toward the wedding house stretched long and dusty, cutting through fields that glowed golden under the late afternoon sun. Our convoy moved slowly three cars, family inside each.

Dadi Sa sat in the first car beside my father, occasionally giving instructions about gifts, rituals, and how we should greet the host family.

Choti Maa sat beside her, quietly explaining connections. “Meera ji meri maayke wali side se judi hui hai,” she had said earlier.

“Unki bahen ki beti ki shaadi hai.” Connections like these run deep in Rajasthan. One family touches another. Another touches a third. Eventually every house knows another. Which is why our entire family had been invited.

But my reason for coming here had nothing to do with invitations. It had a name. Aaradhya.

I leaned back in my seat, watching the passing road lazily while my mind worked through possibilities. This time things would change.

Before this trip she still believed everything was coincidence temple, garba, the car, the fainting. But here… here she wouldn’t escape easily. Here I wouldn’t stay in shadows.

Two paths existed now. Either she would begin to fear me, or she would begin to fall for me. Both outcomes ended the same way with her belonging to me. And I never lose what I decide to take.

The haveli finally appeared ahead of us. Lights hung across the entrance. Workers moved around decorating the courtyard.

The haldi stage for tomorrow was still being prepared. Our cars stopped near the gate. Immediately the host family came forward to welcome us. “Khamma gani!”

Dadi Sa stepped out first. Greetings exchanged. Respect shown. Hospitality flowing like tradition demands. Inside the courtyard the air smelled of fresh flowers and haldi paste. Relatives moved everywhere. Voices echoed across balconies.

The host family guided us toward the inner hall. Rooms had already been arranged. Guests were being settled one by one. I walked behind the others quietly, my eyes scanning the house. Looking. Searching.

Then I reached the corridor outside my room. A balcony opened toward the courtyard below. Without thinking, I stepped out.

And there she was.

Below. Standing near the haldi stage. Wearing maroon again. The color suited her disturbingly well. She wasn’t dressed heavily yet, just a simple maroon kurta. Hair loose. Hands busy giving instructions to workers decorating the stage.

“Thoda left mein lagaiye phool…”
“Ye light seedhi nahi hai…”

Her voice carried upward through the courtyard—calm, focused, unaware.

I rested my hands on the balcony railing. Watching. Every movement. Every expression.

And then someone approached her. A boy. Around our age. He said something. She laughed soft, bright. The boy leaned closer and teased her again. She pushed his shoulder lightly. They both laughed louder.

Something dark twisted inside my chest instantly. My jaw tightened. The sound of her laughter near another man felt… wrong. Completely wrong. My fingers curled slowly against the railing.

Who was he? Why was he standing so close? Why was she smiling like that?

My gaze followed them as they walked toward the backyard. Away from the crowd. Away from the lights. Evening had begun settling over the house. Shadows stretched across the corridor.

Without thinking further, I moved. Fast. Down the staircase. Across the courtyard. Through the side passage. Her footsteps echoed faintly ahead.

By the time she reached the darker backyard corridor
I was already there.

Waiting.

She turned the corner. And froze.

Before she could react, my hand closed around her wrist. I pulled her sharply toward the wall. Her back hit the stone surface. My arm blocked her escape instantly.

She stared at me. Shock flooding her eyes. I caged her between the wall and my body. For a moment she didn’t even breathe. Then she tried pulling her wrist away.

“Chodiye”

My grip tightened.

“Muskurati bahut hai aap,” I said quietly. My voice carried no warmth. “Dusro ke saamne.”

Her brows furrowed. “Aap… kya keh rahe hai…?” She struggled again. “Jaane dijiye mujhe.”

I ignored it. My grip tightened further around her wrist. She winced. “Dard ho raha hai,” she whispered.

I stepped closer. Dangerously close. My voice dropped lower. “Dusro ke saath yu muskurana… maze karna…” My eyes locked onto hers. “Bandh kijiye aap.”

Confusion mixed with fear in her expression. “Haath chodiye…” She tried pulling away again, but I didn’t move. Instead I leaned closer.

“Soch samajh kar jawab dijiyega.” My voice hardened. “Wo ladka kaun tha?”

She stayed silent. Her breathing had become uneven. I pressed my weight forward slightly, trapping her more firmly against the wall.

“Wo,” I spoke each word slowly, “ladka… kaun… tha.”

My jaw clenched. My grip tightened further.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Mera… cousin tha…” The words came out weakly, almost like she was afraid to say them.

For a moment silence stretched between us. Then I leaned closer to her ear.

“If I ever see you again…”

My voice dropped into something darker. “…kisi aur se baat karte hue… muskurate hue… ya koi bhi aapke kareeb aata hua…”

My fingers tightened one last time. “…to aap soch bhi nahi sakti kya hoga.”

I stepped back slightly. Her wrist slipped from my grip. She immediately pulled her hand close to her chest, her breathing shaky, eyes wide.

I studied her face carefully. Then I spoke again, this time quieter.

“Aapki hasi…” My gaze moved slowly across her face. “…bahut keemti hai.” A pause. “Agar kisi aur ke saath dekhi…”

I didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t need to.

She turned instantly, trying to run. But before she could take two steps, I grabbed her wrist again.

“Abhi.”

My voice stopped her movement. “Hamari baat khatam nahi hui hai.”

She froze. I stepped closer again, but this time my tone changed. Softer. My fingers moved to her hair, gently brushing the loose strand behind her ear. Her body went completely still.

I looked at her properly. Really looked.

“Bahut achi lag rahi hai aap,” my voice almost sounded calm now. “Roz ki tarah.”

That was enough. She pulled her wrist away and ran. Her footsteps echoed loudly through the corridor, disappearing toward the main hall.

I stayed there, watching the empty passage where she had vanished. For a long moment I didn’t move. Then I turned slowly and walked back toward my room.

Inside the balcony again, I looked down at the courtyard. People still moved around decorating the haldi stage. Music played faintly somewhere inside the house.

But my mind remained fixed on one thing.

From this moment onward, no one touches what is about to be mine. No one laughs with her like that boy did. No one stands close to her. No one earns her smile.

I leaned against the balcony railing, watching the courtyard carefully, and quietly made a decision. From today

I will not allow distance anymore.

What belongs to me… will remain under my control.

Always.